


Je Ne Regrette Rien

by PaintMeViolent



Category: Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-24
Updated: 2012-03-24
Packaged: 2017-11-02 11:16:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/368386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaintMeViolent/pseuds/PaintMeViolent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Death – the last sleep? No, it’s the final awakening.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Je Ne Regrette Rien

Was it how it meant to be? Am I going to die like this? Full of bitterness and resentment? What did I do to deserve this? Have I betrayed my siblings? No, I’ve betrayed no one. Foolish children chose to dwell on the past; they spent their time not looking forward but looking back at what happened to us in Narnia.

Broken was not the right word to describe my state when I learned about death of people dear to me… Hardened by war Father and always crying Mother. They must be happy, there, in Narnia. And what about kind Lady Polly and mysterious Professor Kirke, were they happy to return to the country which birth they had witnessed? They were, I think. Awaiting Peter and hopeful Lucy, they had never done one small mistake, always right, always noble. Peter wanted to return to his country and Lucy hoped to return. I believe their wish had been granted. And Edmund: kind, just and merciful. Was he merciful to me, was he just, was he kind? When I needed someone to come to me, and hug me, and tell me that it didn’t matter if I believed or not, I was still their sister, where was he? He never came. None of them came.

Time passes as do heartbreak and misery. Then anger and bitterness come. Did I do something wrong to be banished? Wasn’t I good enough to stay in Narnia, the country I was ready to die for, by Caspian’s side? I know, I know. The Queen of Old and the newly crowned King? But I did love him, I truly did.

But now it didn’t matter for anger was replaced with acceptance. I’d accepted everything: losing my family, my country, myself.

I close my eyes and breath in the sweet August air filled with the smell of rye, flowers and life. I can feel ears of rye gently swaying under my fingers, warm southern wind playing with my silver locks. And I feel small grains of sand under my bare feet.

As I open my eyes gold light blinds me and I’m overlooking the golden sea that flows to the horizon and up to the sky. And it’s beautiful. For a moment I forget how to breathe, all I want is to run wild until I collapse, but 90 years don’t pass unnoticed and all I can do is stare at the inviting gold that has never looked as warm as now.

And I run and run and run, the orange sky blooms above me and I can hear whispers of trees and the heaving of waves. I stop.

Where I live there is no seaside, no trees, there are only endless fields of rye and a lone tree. I open my eyes.

Golden towers and crystal walls of Cair Paravell. No, no. I don’t want it, because it didn't want me first.

The light is dull. The sky is deep blue, nearly black. And the castle is made of grey stone. Everything around me is grey. And then there are two figures – white and green.

Now I am awake. Now I am alive. Now I am the third.

I regret nothing.


End file.
